


Detention

by ms_mandanicole



Category: WWE, wrestling - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Detention, Explicit Sexual Content, High School, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, WWE - Freeform, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_mandanicole/pseuds/ms_mandanicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Class lets out as the bell chimes, and the students begin to file out. With a daring smirk in Seth's direction, Dean attempts to sneak out with the crowd as they file out to go home. He almost escapes, he suddenly feels a heavy hand on his shoulder that pulls him back as the last student passes him on her way out.<br/>"No no no, Mr. Ambrose. Sit down, right in the front. You have some detention to serve." Mr. Jericho says, a soft smile on his face as Dean turns around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

The desk presses against his barely-scruffy cheek, leaving a ridged implant as tiny snores escaped his mouth. Dean Ambrose shifts slightly in the hard seat, his hood pulled over his head to mask himself from the harsh lights of the classroom. He didn't dream as he slept (he never did), but he did wake up with a shock when plastic collided with fake wood on his desk, and the ruler bounced up and brushed his hood off his head slightly.  
"Shakespeare?" He blurts out, his voice drowsy as he looks up, his hood falling back to reveal shorn light-brown hair.  
"No, Mr. Ambrose. Seems like you've been sleeping again." Is the voice that answers him, accented and commanding. Dean's English teacher, Mr. Jericho, stands next to his desk, his small glasses making his azure eyes seem huge. Dean looks around and sees every eye in the class on him. A wave of insecurity hits the senior and he shifts, looking down at his desk, which is covered in drool that he quickly wipes away with the sleeve of his jacket just to avoid their eyes.  
"Lucky for you, it's the end of the day. Which means you won't have the thought of an hour long detention looming over your head for the rest of the day. Now, before your snoring interrupted my lesson, I was asking everyone to to turn to page 475 in their textbooks to analyze the poem..."  
Dean groans, a frown on his face as he looks over at his friend, Seth Rollins, seated next to him. Seth shrugs apologetically, mouthing that he'll "grab Dean and take him home" after detention.  
Class drags on, and finally the last bell rings. Dean has been bored and angry the entire class, bored because of the work and angry that he got detention (he should be used to it, but Mr. Jericho has never given him detention before). Even though Mr. Jericho seems like a laid-back teacher, he gives out some of the hardest work to his students. He calls it improvement; Dean calls it bullshit.  
Class lets out as the bell chimes, and the students begin to file out. With a daring smirk in Seth's direction, Dean attempts to sneak out with the crowd as they file out to go home. He almost escapes, he suddenly feels a heavy hand on his shoulder that pulls him back as the last student passes him on her way out.  
"No no no, Mr. Ambrose. Sit down, right in the front. You have some detention to serve." Mr. Jericho says, a soft smile on his face as Dean turns around. Dean grudgingly sits down at the designated desk, right in front of Mr. Jericho's desk where his laptop sits. A pile of work rests on the desk, awaiting Dean. Another groan leaves his lips, only to be counted by a 'tsk' from the blonde teacher.  
"Dean, this is simple poetry. All I'm asking you to do is read poems, analyze them like I taught you, then answer questions."  
"But I hate those stupid questions. Half of them confuse me." Dean admits the second part shyly. Dean knows he isn't stupid, he just hates having to make such a concrete decision on questions that are so open-ended.  
"Well then. Why don't you read and analyze that first poem then we can work through the questions together." Mr. Jericho says, turning back to his laptop. His fingers glide over the keys smoothly, typing away as Dean reads and scribbles on the paper.  
Time passes, and finally Dean calls out to his teacher. Mr. Jericho rolls over in his chair, stopping at Dean's desk. He quickly reads over the poem, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth as he remembers his lesson for it.  
"Dean, the author is explaining the physical abuse he suffered at the hands of his lover. This is a good analysis, but you're looking at it from the wrong viewpoint." Mr. Jericho explains, pointing at one spot in the short poem. "Especially right here."  
Dean reads the part aloud, scratching at his arm. "Yeah, I know that means that he was getting abused, but a woman wouldn't abuse a man this bad to make him write stupid poetry." Dean jokes, earning a chuckle from his teacher.  
"You honestly think a woman wrote that?"  
"Yeah..."  
"Dean, remember the first rule of poetry. Read th-"  
"Read the author's name... Oh."  
"See? I wrote that. No, I wasn't abused, before you ask. I just like to write poetry. You would realize that poetry is actually great if you didn't fall asleep in class."  
"Oh. So... You're gay?" Dean asks a bit awkwardly, working through the questions with his teacher's guidance.  
"Yep. No shame in it." Mr. Jericho admits with a shrug, his hand then resting on Dean's back as they work. Usually, touches like that would irk Dean, but the soft touch of his English teacher's hand soothes him and helps his focus on the questions. Once he finishes them, he turns to his teacher and almost smiles -- pride in his work -- as Mr. Jericho nods and grades it in his head.  
"See, with a little focus you can do anything. You only missed one. I'm proud of you." He says, the hand on Dean's back absentmindedly moving in smooth circles. Involuntarily, Dean lets out a quiet mew and stretches at the touch, his body curving as a 'click!' echoes through the building. Suddenly, heat flows through the room, making the two men quickly sweat.  
"Thirty minutes after school ends on Friday's they always turn the air off to save money. It's horrid." Mr. Jericho mumbles to Dean while rolling up his sleeves. He undoes his red tie slightly to unbutton the first two buttons of his white shirt. He fans himself with his free hand, watching Dean as he analyzes the next poem, sweat dripping from his forehead as the sunlight shines through the small windows in the classroom.  
"Ok, I can't take this anymore." Dean says, pulling away from the poem and Mr. Jericho's hand to strip of his jacket. He went to school with nothing underneath it and he doesn't care right now: his two goals are to sit out this hour and to stop sweating. With his upper half naked, the second goal has been slightly achieved.  
Mr. Jericho, on the other hand, can't stop sweating for a different reason besides the heat. As he tries to focus on the questions, he can't help it that his eyes are roaming the muscular body of the eighteen-year-old next to him, or that his hand goes back to rubbing the boy's back. He also can't help it when his fingertips dance up Dean's spine, and Dean can't help it when a quiet gasp leaves his lips, his body curving again as a delicious sensation runs across his stomach at the touches. Mr. Jericho makes a quiet noise, his free hand going to his neck.  
Dean turns at the noise and looks at his teacher. Mr. Jericho has stripped of his tie, and has it draped over the desk next to him. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned now to show off his smooth chest, the sleeves pushed up even more.  
"Mr. Jericho..." Dean whispers, confusion in his voice at everything. _Why is he still touching me like this and why do I like it and why can't I look away oh crap I think I know where this is going shit... Wait, why do I want it?_  
"Call me Chris, please." Chris mumbles, leaning in to brush his lips against Dean's soft neck. A pleasing moan leaves Dean's lips, and he tilts his head to the side to allow the older Canadian more skin. After Chris has his fill of kissing, nipping, licking and marking up the younger man's neck, he pulls away with a smirk.  
 _Oh my god that was good_ Dean thinks, his heart racing as he realizes he's ready to do just about anything for his teacher.  
"Do you want this detention to end on a good note, Dean?" Chris asks with lust in his voice as he crooks a finger, motioning Dean over. Dean scrambles over to straddle Chris's lap and his fingers run up and down Chris's muscular arms, making Chris shiver in anticipation.  
"Depends; do I?" Dean teases, grinding against his teacher. Dean doesn't know what's come over him, but for some reason he's attracted to his teacher enough to let him fuck him. _Wait... What?_  
Dean always knew that he was curious about men, and Mr. Jericho would be his type (if he had one). Blonde hair, blue eyes, an accent and a killer body with a brain to match it. Basically perfect, and now Dean is seeing the man in a whole different light... A light that he likes.  
"Oh, you're bad. You deserve detention every day." Chris growls with a teasing tone, leaning in to take one of Dean's plump pink nipples into his mouth. He sucks it gently as his arms wrap around Dean's slim waist, making Dean moan at the sensations running through his body.  
"Please." The dirty-blond breathes out, his body twitching as Chris grinds up against him. "Fuck, please."  
At the curse Chris snaps his head away, a playful frown on his face. "Now, Mr. Ambrose. You know we don't curse on school property." Chris teases in an imitation of the school's principal, making Dean chuckle. The chuckle quickly shifts to a moan when Chris dips his head down and his lips attack Dean's abs.  
"That means your punishment is going to double." He mumbles against the hot skin, and a hand reaches up, swiping Dean's other nipple just to make him moan.  
Once again, Chris pulls away. Dominance fills his voice as he leans away from the horny student on his lap. "My desk. Clear it. Now."  
Dean does exactly as he's told, getting off of his teacher to clear the desk. He moves the laptop to a student's desk, then walks back to Chris's desk with a smirk, teasingly swinging his hips the entire way. The papers and pencils fluttering to the floor as he clears it with a large sweep of his arm.  
"Sit on the desk. Keep your pants on." Chris orders, standing up to lock the door before he moves over to his desk, slipping in between Dean's spread legs. His lips find Dean's, the kiss heated and hot as Dean works off Jericho's shirt with nimble fingers. He pushes it off of Chris's shoulders, quickly admiring the tattoo that adorns his bicep with a swirl of his finger over it, making Chris smile in the kiss as his tongue pushes into Dean's warm mouth.  
Chris works off Dean's pants, shoes and socks in the kiss, leaving him there in a pair of black boxer-briefs that leave little to Chris's imagination; especially with the erection tenting the crotch up. Dean strips his teacher down to his white boxers with the push of his hand and Chris steps out of them, along with his shoes and socks without breaking the kiss until he manages to glance down and see the bottom half of Dean.  
A smirk crosses the Canadian's face as he gets an idea. Bending down, he kisses and sucks at the erection through the thin material of Dean's boxers, speaking in a soft yet dominant voice against the erection. "Alfani boxer-briefs? Nice choice." Dean moans hard at the vibrations that seem to run through his entire body from Chris's words. His fingers find the back of Chris's head and he tugs at the short hair there; Chris snaps away, however, a frown on his face.  
"I'm in charge, kid. Touch me again when I don't tell you and you'll be walking out of here with an erection and a detention with another teacher." Chris warns. Once he sees Dean nod in agreement, he goes back to what he was doing, his tongue joining the game this time.  
After another minute of this, he decides to further this. "Off my desk. Let me sit. Hands and knees. Now, take off my underwear with your teeth... Fuck, that's good." Chris says with a moan as Dean follows all of his instructions to a T, his cock springing out of the material as Dean pulls it down to the floor, spitting the underwear onto the floor before making a cheeky comment.  
"What did we say about cursing?" Dean teases, rocking back on his knees as he looks up at Chris with an innocent smile that's quickly followed by a smirk.  
"Oh, hush." Chris comments, stroking his cock as his free hand forces Dean solidly on his knees, Chris angles his cock, the head pressed against Dean's soft lips. "Suck." He commands; and the teen does just that without hesitation.  
It's like heaven to Chris, the boy's mouth is. He takes in all of Chris, sucking him roughly as he hollows his cheeks. Dean's large tongue traces along the throbbing vein on the underside of Chris's cock, making him moan.  
"Fuck, Dean, you're like a little cocksucking pro, aren't you? You little slut. Gonna make you mine, gonna make you crave my cock until you're begging me to fuck you in class just so you can get some relief." Chris says, his accent thick as he talks dirty to the teen, which encourages him to suck faster.  
After a few minutes of this bliss, Chris feels his orgasm approaching. He twitches hard, grabbing Dean's hair hard. "No." He commands, pulling his cock out of Dean's mouth with a 'pop'. "Wanna make sure you... you learn what happens when... you're bad." Chris pants, rapidly jerking himself off. Dean's hand shoots up, joining his and he closes his eyes. After a minute, Chris blows his load all over Dean's face, and their hands milk Chris through his rough orgasm, getting hot cum all over Dean's face.  
A quiet whine escapes Dean's throat from the odd sensation of having cum all over his face and the need to cum. Luckily, Chris solves the first problem by leaning down between Dean's forced-open thighs tracing his tongue all over Dean's face to clean up the cum.  
"Wish I was... was the one tasting you." Dean breathes with a light pant, attempting dirty talk as Chris's tongue dances over his cheek. It gets a growl out of his teacher, who finishes cleaning up Dean with a smirk.  
"Damn right you do." Chris says before kissing Dean almost violently, making sure he can taste Chris in his mouth. Their tongues swirl as Chris pushes off Dean's boxer-briefs, making both men moan as their sensitive cocks touch. Chris pushes Dean back onto the linoleum floor and slides down him eagerly quickly takes all of him into his mouth, sucking him roughly. His blonde head bobs up and down Dean's sensitive length, hungry to taste his cum. One hand palms Dean's sack, and this entire time Dean has been moaning like a madman, his head tossing every which way at the sensation of Chris's hot mouth on his cock. He's been blown by girls before, but he's never been blown by a guy, much less blown this well.  
Then, without any warning except for an arch of his back and a cry of Chris's name, Dean cums hard. Jericho expertly swallows all of his cum up happily, licking the teen dry as he rides out his orgasm.  
Exhaustion sets over both of them and Chris slides up Dean, only to fall on top of him wearily. Rolling over, Chris lets Dean rest on him and the two cuddle on the hard floor, simple thoughts passing through them as their hands find each other and wind together.  
"Mr. Jeri- I mean, Chris. Chris, what now?"  
"I don't know."  
"Can I sleep?"  
"Isn't your friend Seth coming to get you?"  
"Probably not. Can you take me home?"  
"Of course, my little... Angel." Chris whispers, kissing Dean's cheek. "Now sleep, please. You need to rest up before I take you home. Your parents will understand right?"  
A yawn. "My parents ain't home."  
"Aren't."  
"Whatever. I'm sleeping."  
Without another word, the student falls asleep on top of his teacher. Chris reaches over, grabbing a blanket from one of the outward-facing drawers that he keeps for his students. Even though the class is hot, they need some coverage. With a smile Chris kisses the younger man once the blanket is over them then joins him in dream-land.


End file.
